


cogitatio | Tubbo & Technoblade

by AlexandraMariaAnna



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anyways, Death by stabbing, Supernatural - Freeform, Whump, antarcticempire!techno, could be considered a continuation to the previous fic, ghost!tubbo, good for him, i am only tagging this for violence because q gets stabbed and you know what, i guess, just for a moment tho, obligatory not a native speaker tag, oh god i have no idea how tagging works and ive been doing this for what, quackity goes batshit insane and is also the president, still the same Tubbo Died au, suffocation, techno is Bad With Feelings, this started out as a 300 word drabble and now here we are, three years now, tubbo faces mortality, tubbo has superpowers!, up to you!, where are my boys i miss them so much, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraMariaAnna/pseuds/AlexandraMariaAnna
Summary: Tubbo faces what could have been.A painful truth comes to light.===AU where Tubbo died during the Festival and is now haunting Techno.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade
Comments: 6
Kudos: 171





	cogitatio | Tubbo & Technoblade

It wasn’t the best day for  Technoblade , The Blood God, Favored by Wrath. Since daybreak, his head has been pounding for an unknown reason, and no matter how many cups of chamomile tea he downed, it didn’t seem to go away. His favorite work axe broke, then a creeper blew up right in front of his doorstep, taking with it a part of the staircase he had to rebuild, and when he was done with that and thought that maybe, just maybe he could make himself some food and sit down with a good book, the ghost that lived in his house asked him to help him with reading Latin words out of the encyclopedia of wildlife he stole from his shelf.

Of course, forever the peer-pressured,  Technoblade settled on the floor by the fireplace, and patiently helped the boy out, observing his smiling face through the corner of his eye. He has grown used to him being in his house. The only thing he worried about was why would he not act the same way around anyone else as he does around him, but he had time to find that out. No one was rushing Techno, and no one was rushing  Tubbo ; in some weird way, they found comfort in each other's company. 

“This one?” Tubbo pointed, his finger pointing towards a specific passage underneath a vividly colored picture of a red flower.    
“Papaver somniferum,” Techno answered, and Tubbo perked up, face bright.    
“That’s the one they make drugs from!” 

Technoblade sighed, a half-smile dancing on his lips.    
“Both you and Tommy, it’s almost as if drugs are the only thing of your minds,” he muttered, and Tubbo frowned, crossing his arms on his chest.   
“It’s a very profitable business venture!” he huffed, pointing to the book with his chin. “Besides, not all drugs are bad,” he added, and Techno laughed silently, amused.   
“Sure, sure. Got any proof of that?” 

The specter was very much up for the challenge, and he began flipping through the large encyclopedia rapidly, his glazed-over eyes scanning the pages one by one. By all means, this could still turn out to be a good day, Techno thought as he watched  Tubbo stick out his tongue slightly as he went back and forth through the book. He could just stay inside and not expose himself to any more of fate’s bullshit, read a book like he wanted to – well, he was technically doing that right at that moment, but who cares about technicalities – maybe retire early. 

Yes, that day could still be good, he nodded at his own thoughts as Tubbo turned the book for him to see, a triumphant grin on his face.    
“This one!”   
“Digitalis purpurea?”   
“Yes!” the boy smiled widely, happy to deliver yet another fun fact of the evening. “Back in the day, it was used to regulate heartbeat!”

He babbled on and on, about different species of the same flower, about their usages, about their scents and, oddly enough, flavors – did this kid put everything he saw into his mouth at one point, gods above – and after a while Techno found himself zoning out, eyes pleasantly unfocused at an undisclosed point beyond the window. The voices in his head were behaving that day, joking about drugs at that very moment, actually, and for a split moment,  Technoblade felt at peace, the warmth of the fire cradling his body like a mother would cradle a sick child.

_ Be careful. Danger.  _ _ Technoattack _ _. Hide. Fight. Run.  _

Techno’s eyes perked up as he sprang up from his position on the floor, grabbing his battleaxe which was conveniently placed by his ender chest. Tubbo jumped up as well, startled by the sudden movement.   
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes scanning the bigger man for any damage or hurt. With a couple of confident strides, Techno walked up to his window and peeked out, making sure not to make himself visible to anyone who would be standing on the other side.   
“Extinguish the fire, Tubbo. Stay quiet,” he muttered, and by the tone of his voice, Tubbo deemed it serious enough to not talk back or joke around. The boy quickly knocked the bucket of water into the fireplace, and with a low hiss, the fire flickered out. 

The silence was so heavy that Techno could hear the quickened beating of his heart. Where were they? How many? For what reason were they seeking him out? 

_ Two minutes away. Three armed men. They want to kill you. Revenge. Bloodlust. Stay safe. _

“Techno-” Tubbo whispered right into his ear, and the man barely held in the swing of his axe his body tried to deliver to the ghost’s neck. With a frown, he faced the ghost. “What’s happening?”   
“People are coming to kill me,” he whispered back, and Tubbo paled, if a specter could even pale more than the shade of alabaster he already was.    
“What!? Why?”   
  
Techno’s eyes stopped on Tubbo’s chest just for a moment before he tore his eyes away, focusing back on the image powdered by the blizzard that was just behind the window.    
“Tubbo, I helped blow up L’Manburg, your precious country. It’s high time someone came to prosecute me.”    
“But you said that you had a reason for wanting it to be gone-”   
“And they had a reason to want it to stay. Give and take. I was made the villain.” Techno muttered, and Tubbo’s face fell.

He remembered L’Manburg well, both the first steps the country took within the black walls, as well as the ones it walked on shattered glass of the windows blown out during the electoral fallout. It was a good country in his memory, one that he had many good recollections of; he built it with his own hands after all, alongside others whose faces were unfocused in his mind.   
Still, Techno told him his side of the story, and he knew, deep in his non-beating heart, that there was a grain of truth in his words – Schlatt was power-hungry, but so was Wilbur, so was Tommy; had there not been a L’Manburg to fight over, there would be no war at all.

Maybe  Technoblade should be sentenced for what he has done, even though  Tubbo hasn’t seen the carnage. That would be justice, a logical follow-up to an act of terrorism. 

In  Tubbo’s mind, however, one that has not been under influence of others for a long time, one that was finally allowed to think for itself, it was a sour note when faced with other facts he learned about since he appeared in the cabin for the first time.

“Do you want them gone?” he asked, and Techno grimaced, his eyes reaching far beyond the window, beyond the snow domes and ages-old trees. “Alright!”

And just like that  Tubbo brushed by Techno and walked outside, a wide smile still on his face. For a second  Technoblade thought he was hallucinating, if seeing a ghost in his house for the last months was not hallucinatory enough. Was this kid, who until now only pestered him about wildlife and picked his brain about builds they could make in the middle of the snow biome, truly going out to fight a mob of highly armed people? 

He gripped the axe in his hand tighter, until his knuckles turned white. For better or for worse, he couldn’t be killed  _ again.  _ He would have to watch for now.

The first thing that  Tubbo noticed when he shut the door behind himself was that he could hear voices through the blizzard. They were muffled, of course, by the rapidly falling snow and the freezing wind, but he could hear them clearly, and he knew exactly from which direction they were coming from.

_ “You got potions?”  _

Quackity . His voice was cocky, and there was just a twinge of insanity on his tongue as he spoke. He was carrying a lot of gear, clangs of diamond, iron, and  netherite almost as loud as his voice. 

_ “Of course. I packed everything yesterday.” _

Ranboo . His voice was shaky, and faded in and out constantly, as if he was looking around. All he had was a bag slung over his shoulder, and a helmet. He wouldn’t be much of an obstacle,  Tubbo thought. He never really got to know the guy, but what he heard about him from  Technoblade told him enough about what kind of fighter he was.

_ “Shh. I’m trying to listen.” _

Fundy. His body was low against the earth; he was most likely listening for footsteps. Just in case,  Tubbo hovered a bit higher, so he wouldn’t accidentally touch the ground with the tip of his shoe. He hoped Techno wouldn’t move inside the house; if all went well, the  assailants would not have to enter the cottage at all. 

It was quiet for a moment, before Fundy spoke again, this time with an exasperated sigh.    
“Can’t hear anything, Big Q. Are you sure he’s gonna be there?” he asked, and Tubbo could nearly see Quackity roll his eyes.   
“Of course. Where else would he be, L’Manburg? With me in charge?” he laughed, and Fundy followed suit. Ranboo stayed quiet.

They started moving again.  Tubbo took in a deep breath, his hands clammy. There was one thing he recently discovered, when he was deep down in his grief one day, and he was planning to use it to protect the one home he had left.

He wondered when he started calling Techno’s cottage home as he shook his hands to feel them a bit better. In the beginning, he only hung around Techno because being near him brought him a feeling of safety, comfort, and familiarity that he so lacked after he died. At some point in time, however, he settled into the routine of Techno’s household; he felt good there, he felt like a part of the house, something he never truly felt with  L’Manburg \- at least as far as he remembered. 

He took another deep breath and extended his hand in front of him. The first time he found out about what he was about to do, was during a blizzard when he got stranded outside. In fear of melting, he tried to cover himself with his hands, screaming out, and then-

Tubbo flicked his hands. The blizzard stopped in its tracks; particles of snow suspended in midair like cold, sharp stars in the orange glow of the setting sun. He moved his fingers up, and the snow began slowly ascending back towards the sky. He opened his palm. The particles separated, creating a consistent pattern in front of him. He curled his hand into a fist, and all of the snow around him congregated in a single spot, creating a frozen, hard sphere.

The boy grinned. He could work with this.

Inside of the house,  Technoblade was speechless. He knew of magic, hell, he was holding a strength potion in his hand at that very moment, but what  Tubbo was doing was vastly beyond his understanding. Supernatural. Frankly fascinating. The snow around him danced under his fingertips, creating shapes, some dull and round, others long and pointy, akin to a finely sharpened blade. In moments like this Techno remembered something Phil told him about the land from which  Tubbo came to the Greater Dream SMP.

Land of blood, disruption, and anarchy, when everyone fended for themselves, alliances were fragile and death was aplenty. In moments like that one, when  Tubbo skillfully created three icy blades around his small form and swung it with alarming expertise, Techno was glad that, even for such a short moment, the boy was on his side.

The footsteps grew louder,  Tubbo noticed as he let the icicles fall to the ground with a soft thud. He could almost make out the faces of the men approaching him through the blizzard, and he assumed they could see him as well, considering that all of them stopped in their tracks, dumbfounded.

“Tubbo?” The shortest of the men chimed, his eyes widening at the side of the boy who should, by all means, be six feet underground, buried just out of L’Manburg, underneath oak trees and red, ever-blooming poppies. “What- How?”   
“Oh right. I never talked to you, Quackity!” Tubbo laughed, clapping his frostbitten hands together. “Been a couple of months since my unfortunate passing, but I assume some greetings are in order.”

The snowfall slowed down enough for  Tubbo to see Quackity’s pale face.

“Hello. Great to see you again.” he waved, and, unwillingly, Quackity waved back. “How’s L’Manburg?”   
“Great, Schlatt is-” Quackity stared speaking, still shell-shocked, before he shook his head, his eyes back to their previous anger and sharpness. “No, that doesn’t matter. What matters is...” he unsheathed his axe, spinning it in his hand to level it out. “What are you doing here, Tubbo?”   
“Well, protecting my home! That seems to be obvious, doesn’t it!”   
“That’s Technoblade’s house, as far as I’m informed.” Quackity barked, his patience running out.   
“True.”   
  
Inside the house, Techno dragged a hand down his face so hard that he swore his fingertips left marks. He was inches away from just walking out there and turning his front lawn into a sea of blood, when, in the corner of his eye, he saw Ranboo approach Tubbo from behind; he must have circled the house while Quackity was throwing his little tantrum. He was holding a trident in his hand, he was shaking. Was he truly in control over his body? He was moving almost mechanically.   
Techno felt a drop of cold sweat run down his back. The voices were screaming while his mouth remained shut.

_ Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Save him. Save him. Coward. Don’t make the same mistake again. _

“You can say we’re roommates- housemates, if you will!” Tubbo chimed. “And I wouldn’t like for that to change anytime soon, so if you could just leave-!”   
“Tubbo, you’re choosing a side here you won’t be able to go back from,” Fundy spoke up, having broken up from his own shock-driven stupor. “Step away from the stairs.”   
“No.” the ghost spoke, a calm smile never leaving his face. “Please leave.”   
“We want to talk to Technoblade.”    
“In full armor? I don’t think so. Besides, he’s not home.”

Ranboo’s footsteps were growing erratic as he approached  Tubbo from behind, the trident now over his head. 

_ Help. Help. Help.  _ _ Technohelp _ _. Help. _

“Shut up,” Techno whispered, not missing the fact that Fundy’s ears twitched and he turned to look straight at the window.  Ranboo groaned, and switched his body weight onto his right leg, the muscles in his back flexing as his trident began  its short descent towards  Tubbo’s body.

_ Help. Help. Save him. Help. Help. _

The axe in his hand turned into a bow within seconds, and, nocking an arrow, he bust the window open with his shoulder.   
“Behind you!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the snowy hills, and released the arrow. It lodged in Ranboo’s foot, and the tall man screamed, dropping his weapon. All heads instantly snapped to the window, and Techno cursed under his breath, ducking behind the wall again, just as an axe thrown by Fundy hit the windowsill.

Tubbo , now out of mortal (however mortal could it be to a dead man) danger, instantly realized that talking time is over, and he extended his hand, once again stopping the snowfall condensing around him.  Quackity was the first to rush him with a scream on his lips. With one hand, he shattered a potion on the ground in front of him, with the other he gripped an axe so tightly that any unfortunate passersby would think bones in his dominant hand were close to shattering. Without thinking,  Tubbo curled his fingers inwards, creating a fist. The snow, previously a glittering curtain, gathered around  Quackity , who pushed forward through bits of ice nicking his skin. 

Frowning,  Tubbo threw his other hand forward, gathering the snow from his sides, and, with a grunt, he clapped his hands together. Two walls of snow, one man –  Quackity had no chance to remain standing, and he fell, avalanched under the sheer amount of snow. The ghost tightened both of his fists, and the powder hardened into a cube, hard, icy, unable to break through without outside help.

Quackity choked, his mouth filled with quickly melting snow, the moisture and weight of which kept his body pinned to the ground. The snow was blindingly white, but with the volume of it on top of him, it let barely any light through, and he quickly found himself in relative darkness, unable to breathe. 

“ Tubbo ! Stop this!” He croaked out, letting the last of the air out of his lungs. “Why are you helping a man who ended your life?” he screamed, but there was no answer from the child gently hovering over the ground.  Tubbo , without a word, moved his hand, compressing the snow tighter.  Quackity felt his bones crack, his vision quickly fading.

Fundy lunged at  Tubbo with panicked eyes, but his diamond sword went through his body without any resistance; the wide swing toppled him over, and the fox hybrid tumbled down the hill, until his body hit a tree and he went limp, instantly knocked out. 

“That didn’t feel nice,”  Tubbo muttered as he released the  hold he had on  Quackity’s little snow prison. With a grimace, he patted his empty chest. “Ew. That felt gross.” he continued muttering. Concentrated on his wellbeing, and the stability of his semi-corporeal body, he didn’t notice  Quackity slowly but surely emerging from where he was buried. His entire body was shivering, and he was sure that some of his bones were broken, but the adrenaline in his brain pushed him forward when he dug his axe from under the snow and, with a marksman’s eye threw it at the ghost in front of him.

The weapon never reached its mark.

It was met with  netherite , extended protectively in front of  Tubbo , and knocked aside, disappearing into the evening light of the setting sun. 

“Oh, hello Technoblade! I had this handled, you didn’t have to come out!” Tubbo chirped, peeking over Techno’s shoulder. The war machine sighed deeply, pointing the tip of his sword at Quackity, who, now sweating profusely, was looking around for an escape route that would let him keep all of his limbs attached to his already tattered body.    
“You looked uncomfortable,” Techno spoke slowly, like he was mulling over every word before he let it out. “Besides, you’ve done enough. Thank you.”

Tubbo’s face erupted in a wide, bright smile that could only be compared to the setting sun itself. 

“It’s no problem!” he exclaimed, looking around. “Fundy’s unconscious to your left, down the hill. His breathing is shallow, he might be bleeding internally. The half and half boy ran away as soon as he saw you. Quackity’s right here.” Tubbo informed Techno, before sitting down on the stairs that led to the small cottage that he learned to call his home over the last few months.   
“Got it.” 

The blade of the sword glinted in the last rays of the day, and  Quackity scrambled to his feet, a crazed smile on his face, one that did not belong to a man, but rather a crazed animal, driven  into a corner. 

“Technoblade!” he shouted, though his speech was slurred, hard to comprehend due to his frozen lips and barely moving lungs. “For the crime of aiding in the explosion of L’Manburg, as well as openly supporting a terrorist and a traitor, as President of New L’Manburg, I sentence you to death! You are not allowed a trial and will be executed right here and now!” his legs were shaking, but his eyes were colder than steel. To some amount, Technoblade respected that.   
“By whom? Ranboo’s long gone and Fundy is soon to leave this world altogether.” Techno sneered, shrugging his shoulders.    
“Me,” Quackity growled and lunged himself forward, with nothing but potions in his hands, a swan dance from a madman, blinded by his own sense of justice. 

It was over before  Tubbo could blink. Techno closed the distance between him and  Quackity , and with one fluent move pierced his chest with his sword. The man on the receiving end choked, eyes wide. He only managed to spit the blood that gathered in his mouth into Techno’s face, a grin dancing on his lips, before his body went limp and tumbled to the ground, refused the support of the sword when Techno retracted it. Within seconds, the corpse was gone, disappearing into green light, the only memory of it being a splatter of blood on the pure, white snow. 

Techno let out a shaky breath, shaking off the last of  Quackity’s existence off his sword; the sun has fully set by the time he turned around. Tubbo was still sitting on the steps, his eyes half-lidded, lost in thought. At the sound of Techno’s footsteps, he perked up again.

“Ranboo took Fundy away. Sorry, I didn’t stop them, Fundy is Tommy’s nephew and all that.” he trailed off, his voice lacking the usual cheer. There was a twinge of concern in Techno’s chest, and he examined the boy in front of him from head to toe.    
“Are you hurt?” he asked, not being able to spot any visible damage. Tubbo shook his head. “Is everything okay? You seem-”   
“Different?” Tubbo finished the sentence Techno started, and a very bad feeling settled in the pit of Techno’s stomach. “I bet that’s right. You know, I remember now.”   
“Heh?”   
“I remember who killed me, Technoblade.”

Time stopped. 

All of Techno’s muscles locked in the moment the words registered in his brain.  Tubbo’s eyes zeroed on his and he understood, in that single moment all was clear; it was over. The days of peace, orange tea, and reading by the fireplace – gone. An expression of guilty, painful acceptance took over Techno’s face. Seeing that,  Tubbo’s face fell ever so slightly.

Whatever hope he had for his memories, brought to the surface through  Quackity’s agony-filled screams, being wrong, or even scrambled was gone. He stood up and wordlessly walked back inside, the door closing softly behind his spectral form.

Techno stood in place, unable to move. He was used to this. He hurt people, that was his job, that was what he did since he was born; he hurt his father, he hurt his brothers, he hurt everyone who believed and trusted him. This time, however, it stung even more than usual.

Technoblade rubbed his chest with his open palm.

This time he actually thought that he was forgiven. 

His chest burned as he followed Tubbo, his entire body heavy. The room was unbelievably cold, with the window left open and the fireplace extinguished – someone had to mop up the water eventually, so the floor wouldn’t raise and rot in the nearing future. It was dark, too; no one had time to light any candles, so in the soft light of the moon, Techno barely saw Tubbo, perched on his usual spot above the couch. His eyes were locked on... something. Not Techno, the boy actively avoided looking in his general direction, and the man couldn’t blame it. 

Ignoring the silence as well as he could, Techno made himself a warm drink, putting all of his mind into measuring the tea leaves, sugar, and water. Lack of sound was deafening, and it grew like a balloon. Techno wasn’t good with peer-pressure, but he was equally as bad with starting conversations, especially ones he knew wouldn’t end in a way he wanted them to. Still, avoiding it wouldn’t solve  anything , and the chalice of stress spilled over when he felt the cold aura of the ghost approaching.

“ So you’re just not going to talk about it?”  Technoblade finally spoke, and  Tubbo froze, his hands hovering over the cupboard. The tension in the kitchen was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and when  Tubbo answered, it sounded like an explosion came off in the small room.

A firework.

“I am. I’m just trying to figure out what to say, I reckon,” he said so quietly that you could almost mistake it for the cold wind blowing outside of the window. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about.”   
“I know. I think.” Techno muttered, his hands tightening around his mug. “I mean I wasn’t the one-”   
“Murdered.” Tubbo finished the sentence that sounded almost like a verdict given by the judge; in this space, the small boy was the judge, the jury and the executioner – Techno deserved everything that came his way, or at least that’s what Techno himself thought. 

Tubbo placed his feet on the ground; a rare sight, since he usually hovered an inch or two off the floor, enjoying his spectral freedom. Grounding himself meant rejecting that part of himself for a while, and that, in turn, meant that he was preparing himself for something that needed to drag out the most humanity out of himself as he possibly could. A talk perhaps?

Technoblade hated goodbyes. It’s not like he was sentimental, or easily attached; quite the opposite actually. Still, he cherished every moment of peace that came his way, and even if  Tubbo would decide to leave after the conversation that would most definitely end in tears and angry shouts, he would remember the bright, winter sun-filled moments he got to spend with the little boy he almost started to view as his-

_ No. _

He couldn't say it. No attachments. Blood has its price, and the price Techno had to pay was loneliness.

“Well,” Tubbo said, and Techno sat down, awaiting his judgment. “I’m dead. That one thing is established.” he walked, without a sound, towards the large basket in which Technoblade kept firewood. With just a bit of will, he focused and grabbed a couple of them, arranging them in the fireplace It had time to dry fully from the sudden shower it received earlier, it was ready to birth more fire. “You’re the one who killed me, that’s the next sure thing,” Tubbo added, flicking flint and steel together to create sparks. “Why though? What have I ever done?”   
“I was ordered to. In all honesty, I swear to you, I did not go to that festival with the intention of killing you, all I had to do was attend and make sure Wilbur’s plan went smoothly.” Techno spoke, surprising even himself with how easy it was to tell that to the ghost in his kitchen. “And then I got called to the stage and... You know.”   
“You’re bad with people.” Tubbo sighed. “I know. You pulled the trigger to stop them from looking at you.”   
“They were so loud, Tubbo. The people, Schlatt, the voices – I had enough.” 

The tea in the cup was growing cold. The surface of the liquid shook slightly; a tremor Techno has not felt in years. He was shaking. He was shaking because he felt awful, in every possible way.

“I understand.” the boy whispered, finally looking right at Techno. “At least I think I do.” He walked towards the window, and he shut it tightly. The room began warming up, pushing out winter from within the walls. “I did a lot when I was alive; I got to build a nation, I got to rule it. I made friends, I made enemies. I traveled. I ate good food and food that was less than edible. I bled and cried, rejoiced and mourned.” he muttered, watching the fire spread across the logs. “I think I did a lot Techno. Enough, for a person like me.”

The room was enveloped in light as the fire consumed more and more wood. Techno knew ghosts couldn’t cry, but in that light, it almost looked like  Tubbo’s cheeks were wet, and his eyes a bit less misty than before. It was a good thing the man was sitting down; he felt faint. 

“In other words-” Tubbo spoke, a gentle smile overtaking his features. At that moment, he was one with the wind, with the scent of orange and cinnamon, with the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, and the ever-present lingering reek of gunpowder. “-I forgive you, Technoblade. I have forgiven you a long time ago, even if I wasn’t aware of it.”   
“Tubbo...” Techno croaked out. The cup creaked under his scarred fingertips.   
“You welcomed me into your home, talked with me when everyone else avoided my eyes. You humored me when I rambled and you kept me company when I spiraled into sadness I couldn’t understand.” Tubbo hummed, his eyes lost in the fire that roared inside the fireplace. “You’re a good person, Techno. I hope you’ll be able to see it one day,” he added, smiling.

“I killed you. You, and then tens of other people that surrounded you.” Technoblade answered bitterly. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”   
“Yeah. You don’t.” Tubbo laughed. Techno looked away, ashamed. “But we all got something we didn’t deserve. You, forgiveness. L’Manburg, people who would give their lives for it. Me, a second chance. In that aspect, I do believe us the same.”

Once again that night, silence. Warm tears, unnoticed, dripped down Techno’s face, falling into the cup and onto the simple table. He’s never been forgiven before. He shouldered every sin he committed ever since he was born, and now spring was granted to him, and the spring scratched at his throat as he cried silently.  Tubbo watched from his spot by the fireplace. 

A while passed before Techno calmed down, his vulnerable face hidden once again under thick, scarred skin. 

“Would you like some tea? I need to make myself a new cup,” he asked, a serene, rare smile on his face. Tubbo laughed.   
“I sure would love to watch you drink some,” he answered, and the scars all over his body didn’t hurt anymore.

The night fell over the cabin in which two brothers sat by the crackling fire, joking about difficult  Latin names.

It had a gentle scent of orange, apple, and cinnamon.

**Author's Note:**

> MMM here we go again.  
> Like I said in the tags, I literally thought man it would be cool if tubbo got angry and then sad music came up on the playlist and I knew I was fucked.  
> I feel like Techno would carry a lot of resentment towards himself, especially because he was basically forced to kill Tubbo, right? That and the boy that hangs around his house is the best thing that happened to him since sliced bread.  
> Stockholm Syndrome, but make it the victim, not the kidnapper.
> 
> As always, find me at @SummoningFailed on twitter if you wanna brawl behind Tesco.  
> Stay safe.


End file.
